


Stilinski's Curse

by euclidimogen



Category: Charmed, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4622022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euclidimogen/pseuds/euclidimogen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was always the hint of magic in the Stilinski family, but nothing concrete, nothing as real as werewolves and Banshees and kitsune. Now Stiles is finding out just where he fit into the greater magical community and might drag all of Beacon Hills into the attention they've been spared until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't decided yet if this will be multi-fandom, or no.

Stiles hit the side door at his usual hyperactive speed, crashing through will all the grace of the Road Runner, or maybe the Tazmanian Devil, but came to an almost complete stop before he'd taken three steps into the house, the consequence of a lifetime of lectures and stern looks from his Dad about slowing down having piled up into an instinctive reaction even when the Sheriff was nowhere to see him.

He didn't miss a beat in his distraction as he multi-tasked, texting Scott, Lydia, and oddly enough Jackson, all about their plans to reunite for another danger session/study hall that evening at The Loft (or Sourwolf's Cave as Stiles had once jokingly referred to it under his breath to Allison, thereby drawing the entire Pack's super-hearing attention and having his key privileges revoked for an entire week!).

He didn't look up from his phone as he dropped his bag to the floor in front of their years'-untouched oven; palmed an apple from the counter/bar that he or his Dad usually stood over or leaned on while inhaling whatever meal substitute they would consume on the fly before rushing out the door; and toed off his shoes before stepping through the open archway leading from their kitchen, past the dining room table buried under a mountain of probably illegally copied and haphazardly stored case files that the Sheriff had never gotten around to returning to the department ever since he started tracing the supernatural elements and leads he'd overlooked or omitted once his son clued him in on The Secret(s) of Beacon Hills.

Stiles had almost made it to the staircase in the front of the house facing the front door, right off the living room, before his head jerked up from staring at his phone screen and his body whirled around almost quickly enough to make a blur as his windbreaker cut through the air. He tripped over his own feet and almost upset the TV they ignored except for the odd game days the Sheriff might have off when he grabbed for something to hold onto, before miraculously righting himself, both arms windmilling and one leg cocked at an angle behind him to help catch his balance.

Stiles straightened up quickly enough and slid back the way he'd come, back to their dining room.

Their miraculously clear, actually company-appropriate dining room. Their dining room with a dining table whose finish and wood color Stiles couldn't have remembered if he'd had a gun pointed at him, or any of his friends' heads...well, more likely, some beast or creature's claws or venomous tail. Either way.

 _That_ dining room table was clear and on top was a runner that Stiles knew had only ever come out when he was still in day school and his mom cooked holiday meals and invited friends and distant relatives. The runner, a tea set that he had no idea whose kitchen John had stolen it from, and...his dad had company. Relatively young, and attractive, company for his dad's age and usual type. To say nothing of the supposed "thing" that was maybe supposed to finally be happening between Stiles's dad and Scott's mom. Really, their mom, since Melissa McCall had been more than an "aunt" in several ways long before the bite that changed all of their lives.

"Son."

"Hey, dad."

Stiles usually wasn't the type to play it cool, or resist the urge to interrogate anyone when he had even the most random question at the tip of his tongue, but several things about this did not sit right. Except John didn't move to speak or offer any explanation about what could possibly be going on and other than looking between the father and son, John's guest didn't seem inclined to break the silence or address the mounting tension either.

"Well. Enjoy..."

Stiles was already turned around and planning on continuing with his day blissfully ignorant, but John interrupted, his voice exuding every ounce of frustration and resignation as usually came with a battle of wills between the two of them. Stiles heard a muffled sound, either a sneeze or a giggle, from behind him but didn't turn around to verify it just yet.

"Stiles...you're welcome to join us."

"Actually. Dad." Stiles tried to sound as disinterested as he could when there was so clearly so much of the weird going on right under his nose, in his own home. "I do have homework, and the gang's all hanging out later, so I think I'll just-"

"Stiles. Sit." John didn't ask the second time. 

Stiles turned around. He didn't make another token protest and threw himself into a seat at his father's left, facing the mystery guest, with her wavy dark brown hair and business casual blouse and slacks ensemble. He couldn't tell her shoes, but he could tell they'd be heels and likely meet with Lydia's approval--or at least not her outright disdain, which was practically a standing ovation in Lydia-speak.

"So, Stiles, it's nice to meet you." Her voice was almost husky, and she sounded like she was delivering a speech she'd delivered several times. "My name is Paige Halliwell. I was talking it over with your Dad, and I think we might have a place for you at our school. It is a very-"

"Actually." Stiles cut his eyes at John, who was playing stoic, clearly having decided he was going to be Switzerland in this WWII showdown still, and for no reason Stiles could imagine. Of all the times to abandon him: A recruiter! They hadn't had to reject anyone's school options since he dropped out in the seventh grade. "Actually I'm quite happy with my current school situation. I don't have regular tutors, but I test with the local high school and all of my certifications are up to date. John," here he shot an arch look at his father's face again, "should have explained it all to you."

The woman--Paige--didn't look surprised at being cut off, but her expression did shift when he mentioned his testing. Didn't she already know he was home schooled? Wasn't she here because of the tests? Ms. Morell had only ever signed off on his arrangement after he sat for the entire battery of middle school, high school, and pre-college assessment tests to make sure he wasn't only on track, but almost entirely outpacing, the national and local averages. What was this (really) about? Before he could demand answers from the only source in the room he could almost always trust, Paige cut him off just as neatly as he had cut her off earlier.

"Well, that makes things much easier. Also clears up quite a few things--like how you could have slipped through the cracks for so long. Transitioning from personal schooling to Magic School makes the legal stuff much simpler on our side of things. Although, self-taught witches sometimes struggle with adjusting to the many different traditions and sources of power they are exposed to, at first. I've already explained to your dad that we offer boarding, but it's not mandatory. Especially since you have enough experience and control not to draw unnecessary attention. Congratulations on that, by the way. More than a few of our self-taught students who don't start training by puberty have had at least one visit by someone from our school, if not more."

The only outward signs of Stiles's increasing confusion and suspicion were tells only his dad or his closest friends would probably have recognized. Or maybe Paige just misread them as being the usual jitters when she had to make a recruitment pitch for Magic School in the first place. Either way she seemed calm and perfectly willing to wait as he sorted through his thoughts.

"I don't -- I thought -- Why would-"

For only the third time in several years, since he went off his meds, Stiles was speechless and not for any of the usual reasons. He was mentally cross referencing the Bestiary and Chris's files and contacts mentioned through the years, Deaton's literally endless reams of information and lore and teachings, and the Hale's own stash/vault cum armory. None of it rang true with anything she was saying. The only thing he did recognize was that she was clearly supernatural.

How she could have overcome the boundaries to keep his dad safe when none of them were home, he'd have to figure out. Later. Discreetly, Stiles programmed and texted the mass alert to the entire pack without taking his eyes off of the woman. The witch.

"Stiles, you shouldn't-" John began and an imperceptible nod from Stiles urged his dad to continue playing possum and not interfere, but John clearly dismissed his warning. "Stiles, this isn't a trick. I've been trying to find a way to tell you for some time now, it's just ... things never really calmed down. You can trust her. Paige is," John paused and really looked at the young woman sitting at the table and for several beats his face showed too many emotions to isolate any one or two. "family."

"I hear ya, Dad. What could there possibly be to be wigged out about? Don't long lost relatives innocently appear around here all the time?"

"Stiles, I'm serious." John paused again and Stiles recognized the expression on his face, it was the same one he had when he had built up a case and already knew everyone's likely protests and derailments were just going to make things worse unless somebody got a clue and listened to him. "As difficult as it is to hear, or to believe, the supernatural doesn't begin and end in Beacon Hills, with your Pack. Paige is from a side of my family that I'd thought we would never hear from and she's caught me up on some of our history that even I didn't know. But the short of it is that she is family and we can trust her." Almost as an afterthought, John added ruefully, "As much as your Pack will trust any outsiders, at least."

Stiles was fighting not to look at his phone, which had been blowing up with messages and calls ever since he sent the SOS; demands for more info and probably instructions to do the most obvious and usually useless things. John reached over and held his hand out even without Stiles breaking and glancing down at the phone he'd thought he had carefully tucked away from sight.

"So either give me the phone or call them off before we have to replace any more doors. Or windows. .... Or walls."

Stiles didn't immediately turn the phone over, taking the time to type out a message himself, before passing it to his dad. Whether or not they stayed away, they wouldn't be making a big, dramatic entrance at this point. At least until he knew more and gave the signal. 


	2. Chapter 2

For the time being Stiles chose to examine this "family relative." Oddly enough, he'd never imagined long lost relatives popping up on his dad's side. He had done all kinds of research of his mom's family tree, seeking any loose ends or tangles or clues as to what really happened all those years ago, and found very little, which only stoked his curiosity and desperation for knowledge even more. But John's family had never had any mysteries. Their birth records, children, deaths, schools, socials were all on the internet, at government offices and archives of hospitals and old places of employment for anyone to find. At least...

At least up to his dad's grandfather.

Which is when a light came on and Stiles fixed a look of either intense concentration or dangerous constipation on his face. There was something... "Halliwell? ... Uncle Alan? Great Aunt Penny?"

John brightened and Paige relaxed noticeably but not entirely.

"Yeah. Grandpa Johnson's sister, Great Aunt Penny, was my Grams. She inherited the magic in her generation, which, when it continued to skip your grandpa and your dad, and given that the magic in our family only just started showing up in the men with your generation, we were a little late in reaching out to you. But when we did two years ago, you were a magical null. Then a year ago, I couldn't sense anything and definitely didn't associate this Beacon Hills with the trouble we'd heard about since the Packs started to become active around here again. But a few weeks ago, Leo, who's the headmaster at Magic School (and my brother in law), told me you had popped up on Magic School's radar. Something or someone had unbound your magic, at least partially."

Stiles and John shared a hard look before he could focus on Paige again.

"I...still don't know what to tell you. Whatever...mess the No--my possession may have left behind, we've been going through cleansing rituals almost every fortnight with Deaton to reverse or neutralize as much of the damage as possible. Technically it's not ... mine."

Almost as if they'd choreographed it, there were three simultaneous knocks on all of their doors: the back, the side, and the front. Paige immediately looked up and seemed to tense up, preparing for anything, but John only shook his head and dropped it into his hands. With a grimace, Stiles got up to answer the side door and motioned Scott inside.

"Hey buddy. I forgot - "

"Is everything alright?" Scott asked worriedly as he quickly took in the completely combat-free scene.

"I told you guys it was alright. It's not - "

"It's just some family business, Scott." John interrupted but Scott didn't seem anywhere as reassured as he should have been. If anything he seemed more alert and intense as he sized up Paige, who no one had introduced yet.

"Scott. This is my-our-cousin, Paige, from ... "

"The Bay,"

"From San Francisco."

Scott's head turned slowly as he met each pair of eyes in the room, finally ending up back on Stiles's.

"So..?"

"You can tell Isaac and Boyd to fall back. We've got it under control." Stiles leaned in closer and said something under his breath that Paige couldn't hear, but John seemed to catch the end of, causing him to shake his head again and give her an apologetic wince. "I'll catch you guys up tonight, ok?" he said louder for appearance's sake. 

Stiles made a show of opening the door and seeing Scott out, whose expression had relaxed from danger-ready to just befuddled, dazed, and confused.

"So where were we? Paige, I want to thank you for reaching out. If there's anything you can think of that might help settle whatever's left behind and tweaking the radar of this school, then you can always shoot me an email. I just have a lot of other stuff on my radar as it were to handle in the meantime."

"Stiles." Paige cut him mid-ramble with a determined edge to her voice this time. "We didn't mistake anything else for your power, ok? You have magic. You are magic. Like me."

With that, she disappeared, her body dissolving into a rain of glowing lights and reforming right at his elbow. Stiles's head still whipped from one place to the next even after all of his experiences 'running' with the Pack. He'd seen magic, he'd seen and fought and researched supernatural creatures, he'd even used what little 'spark' he'd once had to help fuel some of Deaton's protections and give what support her could to Lydia as an anchor. But that was something else.

"How - What - When!"

"It's called orbing, and it's one of the first powers I manifested and had to learn how to control. In those days, we hadn't discovered magic school yet, and my sisters and I have always been an exception to most of the magical community's rules anyway, so we had to learn mostly on our own. Although we did have the help of a whitelighter or three, including Leo, who helped guide us on our way as all whitelighters due for new, untrained witches."

"One of the first? How many exactly do you have? Does it tire you out? Deaton says there is always be a balance when people use magic to affect big, flashy changes like that... You can't just break the laws of physics and not have to pay up... But you don't feel Dark or Evil, so sacrifice is hopefully out. How are you still standing?"

Clearly Stiles had caught up and was now processing what Paige had to tell him at the front of his mind as the babble was back on, and at full-speed too. Paige orbed back to her seat almost reflexively before even attempting to answer, having been blindsided by this side of 'normal' Stiles level questioning.

"We-our powers don't work that way. It's one of the traditions I mentioned, about self-taught witches having to adjust at Magical School. There is a balance, and we do not practice our magic for personal gain without upsetting that balance and earning at least threefold the consequences or magical derailment for our selfish desires. But for the incidental stuff and active powers, it's placed on the metaphysical tab, which we clear by fighting evil, protecting innocents, supporting other magical creatures, and working to ensure the secret of magic is kept." After a quick look at John's face, Paige was quick to amend that by adding. "We don't all have to fight demons, by the way. There are neutral witches and good witches who do other things for our side, and even more live their lives as quietly and as close to normal as possible without upsetting the balance."

"What about - "

"Actually, I have a question or two. You said you can feel that I'm not Dark or Evil? Can you sense anyone else? Have you always been able to do that?"

"Yeah of course. I mean no. I mean ... I think so? It's just ... my intuition. I'm a good judge of character."

He didn't say the last proudly or with typical teen bravado, but Paige could hear the tinge of real, hard won pride in his voice regardless. Obviously his ability to judge character had been sorely tested in the past and in ways that not only validated said pride, but probably vindicated him with any doubters.

"What else are you a good judge of? Any talent for fortune telling? Slight of hand? Vivid daydreams or when you're sleeping?"

"I'm not--Lydia's the Banshee. She sees people's deaths. Or feels them. Or something. We're actually not too clear on that, still. Anyway. Before my possessi--Before last year, I never had dreams or visions or premonitions or anything."

Paige's brow furrowed briefly at the mention of a different style of Banshee, but moved on when her baby cousin (once removed or whatever) mentioned premonition. She hadn't actually been trying to narrow in on that specific Warren ability, but it wouldn't surprise her if he did have something in that family. Psychic, Telekinetic, Elemental, or Molecular were their most common wheelhouses.

"Well we can always rule that out officially later, once we've really started working out your magic. I actually brought some supplies," As she spoke, Paige raised both arms and a tall stack of books orbed onto her upheld palms, with what looked like a satin bag on top. "along so we could get the basics out of the way. And to drop off your first bit of homework, if you're up for it," she added with a knowing grin.

Given Stiles's own knowledge of the supernatural and the weight of his experiences with its darker side, she didn't doubt he would jump at the chance to devour whatever concrete information she gave him. Speaking of ... given how likely it was that he'd prove to be just as technologically savvy and cyber minded as Billie had been, it would be best to give him the Halliwell spiel early on, both so he could prepare himself and to offset all the rumors and speculation he would find once he started digging and knew what to look for.

"Also. You both should know. John, I don't know how much of the family history survived even without the powers and the threat of demon's scouting you out, but our family has a big reputation. Now you shouldn't have to worry about demons targeting Stiles right away, since somehow his 24 hour window passed without either side vying for him to sway to good or evil, and also the natural energy of Beacon Hills is enough to offset any casual or random scrying..."

"What's the reputation?"

Stiles asked quickly. Paige barely sighed before barreling through the spiel.

"My sisters and I are the Charmed Ones, a legacy and power that was prophesied by our ancestor Melinda Warren when she burned at the stake in Salem. That three sisters would be born from her line, bearing her gifts, and would be one of the greatest forces for good the world has ever seen. While we have technically fulfilled that particular calling and paid our dues for being Charmed, we are still Warren witches, and specifically those of the Halliwell line, have never stayed on the sidelines for long."

"But technically I'm not a Halliwell. Did this start with Great Aunt Penny?"

"... Yes and no. Grams certainly made a reputation for herself starting in the seventies and throughout the rest of her life, that drew a lot more attention from both good and evil, but even before we were "Halliwells" our family has been one of the more powerful families with witchcraft, and have been fighting evil and protecting innocents for a few centuries at least."

John took a moment to digest this information but Stiles was already on to the next point.

"Is there a way we can test to make sure I really have this magic you think I do? I was told that my spark for setting traps and activating boundaries was burnt out after last year."


End file.
